Roar
by zeddess
Summary: In a twist of fate, Sasuke is the firstborn of the Uchiha clan. This leads to an unprecedented change that warps the original timeline, leaving Itachi to redeem his older brother from the intangible claws of evil.
1. The Chosen Child

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Naruto_ franchise.**

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 **I. The Chosen Child**

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The first time Fugaku saw his son, he was speechless. No more than he usually was, for the Uchiha were a stoic people, but today he felt fragile, vulnerable to everything the world had to offer, and deep within, the urge to hide his son from the inquisitive eyes of the world slowly seeped into being.

He was small.

His son was pale, with features too fresh, too young to be definite yet. His skin was soft, his tiny fists were round and plump, and his eyes were shut as he dozed into peaceful slumber. Swaddled in a pastel blue blanket, he looked breakable. Unfit, almost, for the world he had entered involuntarily.

Fugaku's shoulders felt heavy.

"What will we call him?" asked his wife, her voice husky from exhaustion. Although her face was flushed red and her hair was in disarray, a sight that not many were able to see of the Uchiha matriarch, she looked jubilant. Mikoto's dark eyes shone with pride as she looked down upon the tiny infant in her arms.

Fugaku hadn't held him yet. He told himself it was because he didn't want to jostle the sleeping baby, but...

 _He was just so small._

"Fugaku?" she prodded, raising her loving gaze upwards when he didn't reply.

He cleared his throat, pushing away the intrusive, pathetic thoughts that clouded his usually composed mind.

"I... what would you like to name him?" he asked gently, feeling overwhelmed. Never had he felt this powerless, not even when his father had handed down the torch of leadership down to him at the tender age of twenty-one. Combat was in his blood. He yearned for it.

Fatherhood... was terrifying.

Mikoto tutted.

"I did all the work, yet you're the one that needs comforting," she joked, patting the space by the her legs. Fugaku sat down obediently. "What's wrong?"

He stared at her, at a loss.

"Well? Something's clearly bothering you, dear husband."

He oftentimes wondered what he'd done to deserve a wife as understanding and intelligent as Mikoto. Her warm eyes held no contempt or judgement for his nervous state, merely accepting and reassuring him.

"Are we doing the right thing?" he questioned. At her raised brows, he continued, "You know what's happening, Mikoto. What's _going_ to happen. Don't you feel like we're wronging our child by bringing him into a world so bruised with war? What if one of us—"

"Fugaku."

He sighed, rubbing his temples as he avoided her gaze.

"I can't say for sure if we'll be able to shield him from everything," she said. "I'm not sure if the clan won't pressure us to mould him into something they want him to be. A tool for the progress of our people." Disgust laced her voice. "I'm not sure we'll be able to stop them, even."

Fugaku jaw clenched at the thought. Of course, the bastards on the clan council would see this as a fresh opportunity. If the coup they've been planning for the past few years failed, they'd use his son as a contingency plan. Another sacrificial lamb in a sea of many others before him.

He didn't care that Namikaze was crowned Hokage. All he wanted was for his family to live in peace.

The council had other plans.

"But, Fugaku, you must know that we'll _try,_ " Mikoto said, firm and unwavering. "We won't let them decide our son's fate and lead him to slaughter. We'll die trying, but we won't sit idly by. At least we can promise him that much."

The weight lessened, but did not disappear.

For now, he could breathe a little easier. Having his wife by his side helped.

"Here."

And as panic rose alarmingly within, he watched with wide eyes as the slumbering bundle was shifted to his arms. He stiffened, staring at the cherubic face tucked away in his sinewy grip, looking as fragile as china in the burly, scarred arms of a seasoned shinobi.

He was light, and Fugaku feared that a single movement would send him flying.

The child shifted, and his eyes, drowsy with sleep, opened ever so slowly.

" _Sasuke_ ," Fugaku breathed, and his firstborn peered at him with familiar eyes.

Beside him, Mikoto smiled.

Five years passed, and war thundered closer to their doorsteps with every tick of the clock. Namikaze was feared by the rest of the elemental nations, but the Uchiha knew that it wouldn't be long before the aggrieved nations struck in unison. The Uchiha clan's pride clouded their judgement, but even they knew that the combined might of Iwa, Kumo, Kiri, and Suna could not be rebuked by the Konohan military.

They would be spread thin, and that was when the Uchiha would attack.

Fugaku had no fantasies of their victory, but his voice alone wasn't enough to silence the disarray ensuing within the clan walls.

 _Fine, let_ them _die in vain,_ he thought viciously.

Itachi was born five months before everything spiraled down into chaos. He was a quiet baby, his eyes drinking in everything around him as pandemonium struck the clan compound. Fugaku could have counted on one hand the amount of times he'd seen his youngest child, and he couldn't even remember when he'd last held him.

But it was okay. Mikoto could take care of him.

The clan was important, they had to be dealt with first, before they could pounce on Sasuke. His son, Sasuke _,_ who was steadily growing so proficient in the ninja arts that the elders wanted to enroll him in the Academy already. He was _five_ , for fuck's sake. He was barely out of toddlerhood.

Yet Fugaku couldn't help but feel proud of the Uchiha heir when he executed a particularly difficult kata or breathed out katon jutsus with an ease that even his older cousins couldn't replicate. That was his son, _his son,_ and he was the best of them all. The greatest. He had so much potential...

Fugaku wasn't an affectionate man, but he knew that children needed praise to bloom. When he came back home from a weary day at the police force, he spent his time with Sasuke. Pushing, prodding, pruning, praising. Stronger, stronger, _stronger_ until Fugaku was secure in the thought that his son could take care of himself.

And Itachi, of course, but Itachi was yet still a baby, he wasn't ready for this just yet. No, no, Sasuke needed more. He required Fugaku's focus at the moment, because he was in _danger—_

When the Kyūbi tore Konoha's hope to shreds and left them sans a Hokage, Sasuke was admitted to the genin-level program in the Academy.

Fugaku had relented.

The coup had been pushed back, and they were pressuring him to stand for the next elections, but Fugaku knew it was a futile effort. Sarutobi, that bastard, would rather pick his vile, traitorous student than choose him. And so, the plan was allowed to continue.

One moment of weakness, and the Uchiha would strike. They would regain their rightful place. And Fugaku would make sure that his son would be safely hidden away, far from the catastrophic event when it occurred. He held no illusions of triumph, but he would be damned if he let his children become mere tools of the council.

And so, Uchiha Sasuke grew up surrounded by a loving mother, an adoring clan, and a proud father. The quintessential Uchiha heir, he was called.

That wasn't enough to derail Lady Fortune, however, and at the tender age of eight, Uchiha Itachi went through the same pain that, in another parallel universe, Sasuke had once gone through.

Fugaku had failed.

But in that moment, _everything_ had changed.

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 **A/N: I need to stop posting and deleting my stories within the span of five hours. Ugh.**


	2. Ignition Spark

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Naruto_ franchise.**

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 **II. Ignition Spark**

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He woke to silence.

Swinging his legs off the side of the mattress, the wooden flooring cold under his dry soles, he ran a hand through his hair, his long fingers catching on knots and tangles that had magically formed overnight. Maybe it was time for a chop.

Dragging his other hand over his face in a vain attempt to rub the weariness out of his skin, Itachi staggered to the bathroom with bleary eyes, his surroundings a blur to him at this time of the morning.

The water rushed to life with startling ferocity and he bit down on the alarmed curse that threatened to spill past his lips, belatedly remembering that he was alone anyway, not like anyone was going to reprimand him now—

His eyes stung and he scrubbed a fist into the socket, washing out the shampoo irritably.

Ten minutes later, Uchiha Itachi stood dressed and ready for his first day as a genin. Kunai holstered securely, his hair tied back, and a placid look plastered on his sharp face.

He scanned the small, meticulously tidy apartment once more in case he'd missed anything important. His gaze froze for a moment, and he flipped over the photo frame quickly, striding to the door and locking it behind him in one fluid movement.

The street outside his apartment was empty, as per usual. Not many people lived in the upper district, since the housing was expensive. There was also the rather daunting issue of the deserted Uchiha compound taking up most of the upper plane, and no one wanted to live near _that_ site of ruin and damnation.

He preferred to walk, rather than to leap over rooftops in a brazen display of power, much like his peers tended to do. He easily outclassed them, he knew, but the traditional Uchiha flashiness seemed to have evaded him entirely. And so, Itachi was content in his introversion, indifferent yet not ignorant to his classmates and the laughable rumors that surrounded him.

He was comfortable being alone. He always had been.

It was ten minutes to the bell when he sat down in his designated spot, studiously staring at the clock as noise erupted from all around him.

Children, barely old enough to be left at home without supervision had they been civilian, were wielding knives as they jubilantly displayed their gleaming new headbands to each other, toothy grins gracing young faces that flushed red in excitement. He supposed that to the ignorant and naive, this was all just some make-believe fantasy. A game, of sorts. He could forgive them for their innocence, but he couldn't forgive the people who sanctioned such blindness.

But who was he to talk about forgiveness? He still couldn't muster the courage to analyze the truth behind that night.

He was truly a coward.

"Naruto, what are _you_ doing here?" cried a blonde, and he distinctly remembered her as the screeching loudmouth heiress of the Yamanaka clan. He'd had the _pleasure_ of meeting up with the representatives of the great clans every few years, and that entailed making nice with the heirs as well.

That responsibility wasn't supposed to be his, but he doubted Konoha would welcome back a mass-murderer as the rightful heir.

Itachi shook his head.

 _Now was not the time._

"I'm a genin, what do you think?" scoffed Uzumaki, his cerulean eyes rolling back in exaggerated exasperation. "Geez, Ino, you can be pretty dumb sometimes."

The Nara heir groaned from behind Itachi's desk, and the distinct thud of a head hitting wood followed his exhalation.

"What did you just say?" came the indignant shriek, and Itachi tuned them out, returning to surveying the rest of the classroom. Surely, there must be some aspiring-ninja in his vicinity who weren't completely incompetent or hopeless.

The bell rang and Yamanaka's voice was drowned out by the echoing rattle. A head of obnoxiously pink hair obstructed his view of the door, and when she finally sat down, Iruka-sensei's lanky form was ticking off on his notepad as he entered.

"Good morning, class!" he chirped, much too enthusiastic for a homeroom teacher of fledgling assassins.

A varying monotony of responses chorused back at him, some like the Nara heir not even bothering to lift their head off the desk.

"Today's the day you'll be meeting your jōnin sensei, so I expect you're all sufficiently impatient," Iruka-sensei continued, gesturing for the rambunctious ones to quiet down. "I have a list here of the team assignments, and when I call your names, you will move to sit beside your teammates in an _orderly_ fashion. Do I make this clear?"

" _Yes,_ sensei," came the chorus.

As the instructor began to list off names, Itachi's mind wandered elsewhere. He already knew his assigned jōnin instructor, considering the nature of his dōjutsu. It would be irredeemably stupid of him if he pretended not to know. Hatake Kakashi was the only living Sharingan user currently within Konoha's boundaries, one that wasn't a certified missing-nin, and Itachi was pleased to note that the man had a reputation for being indifferent, if not downright cruel, towards all the genin he had tested previously.

One less person to fawn over him in sickeningly insincere sympathy. He could appreciate that.

Two heads to his left, Uzumaki Naruto bolted out of his own reverie when his name was abruptly called.

"...Haruno Sakura, and Uchiha Itachi," Iruka drawled, his eye twitching as he progressed through the names. "Hmm? Your sensei is... oh. God help you three." He shook his head, blinking rapidly. "Hatake-sensei will meet you on the rooftop."

Naruto hollered something unintelligible, not that Itachi particularly cared to listen, and shot towards the door without as much as a backwards glance. He briefly considered taking off through the window, but rejected the idea immediately after he saw his other teammate shoot him a pitiful glance.

The girl...

Itachi sighed. Maybe she would be more receptive towards dyeing her hair to a natural color, if not completely shaving it off?

He got up, following the girl—no, _Haruno,_ to the rickety door and up the staircase. She remained quiet throughout the short walk, her eyes downcast and contemplative as her fingers played with the worn thread of her red training gi. If he squinted really hard, he could vaguely remember her being with the Yamanaka heiress during their first year at the Academy. They had been a lot younger back then, and she had obviously stopped hanging off of the blonde now, but Itachi hadn't paid the local gossip mill any mind after the... _event_. Things like socializing and being in-the-know seemed so petty and infantile to him now.

Still. She was awfully quiet for someone who had spent the better part of two years in a platonic bond with a girl as talkative as Yamanaka. It didn't seem right.

However, it _was_ nice to not be showered with pitying glances or adoring sighs. Despite his muted, almost apathetic, disposition with his peers, the female majority had decided that he was tragically romantic and in need of 'fixing'. He scoffed. How naive.

Well, if he had to tolerate Uzumaki's grating voice, then Haruno's silence could very well be a blessing in disguise.

He snuck another glance at her narrow back, and found himself once again scoffing at the obnoxious color of her hair.

"You guys are so slow," Uzumaki blurted the moment they'd stepped into the cool air outside. He precariously perched on the railings, squinting at the two of them like it was his first time coming into close contact with human beings.

Itachi would normally not deign to respond, preferring to wait in silence, but looking at the dismal state of his team—one mute, one idiot, and him—he thought it might be better if he tried to nip the problem in the bud before it bloomed into a prickly cactus.

"Our jōnin instructor won't show up until after everyone else leaves," he stated, all too familiar with Hatake Kakashi's proclivity to be unnaturally tardy.

"How do you know that?" Uzumaki questioned.

"Hatake Kakashi has an entire page dedicated to himself in the recent Bingo Book," Itachi replied dryly. "You might wish to go through the roster of currently active Konoha shinobi, since you're one of them now."

Uzumaki quirked a brow, but didn't push him further.

"What do you suggest we do instead?" piped up Haruno, and Uzumaki jolted, certainly having forgotten her petite presence behind Itachi's taller frame.

"We do what all genin in training do," said Itachi. "Hatake is unorthodox, but protocol states that only nine genin are cleared for the field during each graduation round."

"Wait, what?" huffed Uzumaki, scratching his head of golden hair in bemusement. "We all passed, didn't we?"

Practicing a great deal of patience, Itachi slowly enunciated, "We passed the graduation test, not the clearance test, which our jōnin instructor will administer. Generally, these are done at the training grounds, and from what I've read about Hatake's team history, he uses the same test on all of his prospective genin teams."

Haruno made a noise of realization, and Itachi was assured momentarily that maybe his team wasn't really a lost cause.

"So, like, d'you mean we should go and booby-trap the forest before he gets there?" Uzumaki asked, trying not to look too eager at the idea of pranking a superior.

"Not... the _entire_ forest, but that's the idea, yes," Itachi admitted.

He was all too familiar with Uzumaki's tendency to play the most ridiculous yet _ingenious_ of practical jokes on everyone in a five-foot radius. While he wasn't academically the brightest, he had skills fit for strategy and an eye for meticulous detail. He automatically fit the requirements for the team's designated meat-shield, albeit not physically—yet.

He'd have to think a little on Haruno, but she'd shown she was at least intelligent enough to catch onto things.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" she asked him later, warily eyeing their blond teammate as an army of his clones descended upon the field, their arms laden with steel wire and explosive tags. Itachi took note of Uzumaki's extensive reservoir of chakra.

The lush greenery of the forest was abundant in its scope for camouflage, Uzumaki having expertly twined the reflective wires around barks and shrubs so that the glaring beams of the sun wouldn't give them away. Itachi knew a jōnin of Hatake Kakashi's caliber wasn't about to be fooled by their genin-level traps, but underestimation had always been an elite ninja's greatest flaw.

Five minutes before their sensei arrived, the three of them were patiently sitting in a semi-circle on the grass.

"Strange, I don't recall telling you brats to meet me here," Hatake mused dryly, fingers rubbing his masked chin in mocking contemplation. He was tall, easily towering over them and casting an ominous shadow over their huddled forms in the bright daylight. His slouch didn't detract from his height, only adding to his appeal. How skilled would a ninja have to be to consciously look this unguarded all the time?

"You couldn't even recall the correct time for meeting us," scoffed Uzumaki, rising to the bait rather obviously, and Haruno muffled a groan. "Are you sure you're good enough for us, eh?"

Hatake tutted, thumbing through his garishly orange book.

"I would've started off friendly and asked you for a quick introduction," he sighed, "but that just seems like a waste of time and effort, since I already know your profiles. How about we finish this quickly so you kids can get back to the Academy and resume pre-genin training?"

Thankfully, Uzumaki didn't burst out shouting and clawing at the man, but he twitched violently nonetheless. Itachi merely hoped that he wouldn't forget the plan.

"That's awfully disheartening," Haruno piped up, cocking a pink brow.

"Ninja life itself is pretty _dis_ heartening; you could even take that literally, since some people have a strange fetish for gore," Hatake cheerfully replied. "Since you kids already knew we'd be meeting here anyway, I don't doubt that Uchiha-kun hasn't already told you about my infamous Bell Test?"

Itachi frowned.

 _He... wouldn't do that, would he?_

The jōnin giggled, an atrociously diabolic sound.

"Well, that wouldn't be any fun, so I decided that we'll try a new test today! Just for you three brats, I'm bringing out something new," he chirped. "Don't you feel honored now?"

Uzumaki threw a withering glare at Itachi from over Haruno's pink head.

"Good job, genius," he snapped. "if we hadn't followed your dumb plan, we could've aced this!"

Itachi rolled his eyes heavenwards, not particularly wishing to get into a spat with the boy. A ninja must be prepared for the worst scenario possible, and he had expected there to be changes to their plan. Although, he hadn't factored in Hatake scrapping the test entirely, to be honest.

"Don't start now!" Haruno hushed, green eyes blazing, although she too looked a little forlorn at their cheat-sheet to the qualification test being ripped to pieces.

As Uzumaki opened his mouth to answer, a kunai whizzed millimeters away from his scarred cheeks. He froze, mouth agape as his eyes bulged to the size of soccer balls. The surreptitiously lithe kunai embedded into a tree with a resounding _thunk_. Only the handle remained visible, the blade lodged deep within the thick bark.

Uzumaki gulped slowly.

 _Ah, so Hatake was picking the route of terrorizing them into battle? Not particularly unique, but he must have something else up his sleeve—he's much too detailed to only test our abilities in combat. Maybe he'll make us fight each other? Or—_

Itachi ducked smoothly, a barrage of six kunai zipping overhead. Haruno looked petrified, obviously having never engaged in actual battle other than the pathetic weaponless spars the Academy made them do. She knew the theory, garnering from the weak stance she'd adopted immediately, but her unsure footing and meek gaze told him that she had never seriously practiced the physical aspect of said theory.

Merely memorizing what the weak parts of the human anatomy were and copying textbook stances wasn't good enough for battle. She still had to teach her muscles to move correctly.

But they didn't have time for that, so Itachi pulled her out of the way of decapitation and shoved her into a bush.

"You have good chakra control," he told her, keeping an eye out for Hatake, who had sat down upon a log in the middle of the clearing with his book out, (although the kunai mysteriously kept coming, judging from Uzumaki's angry yells), "I want you to stay here and manipulate the wires while Uzumaki and I lead him into the ditch."

Obviously, the jōnin would catch onto their plan, but that was the best they could do. They were yet genin, and this wasn't about winning. It was about skill and potential.

Haruno nodded, pursing her lips and quickly finding a stray wire to pump chakra through, as Itachi leapt neatly beside Uzumaki and tapped him on the shoulder. He twisted to the side to avoid a nearly-invisible senbon.

"What?!"

"Cage him in," Itachi ordered. "Clones on the left side, since he's got that one covered, and I'll back you up when I catch an opening!"

Grumbling, but having no better plans of his own, Uzumaki made a handsign and an entire army of clones descended upon the lone jōnin.

Hatake didn't look the least bit surprised, barely moving his eyes from his book as he bent backwards to dodge the first fist, swooping a leg to hit another clone in the gut and backspringing with one hand to elbow a clone. His movements were effortless, fluid like water, and Itachi briefly admired his nonchalance. At least the Sharingan wasn't wasted on him, contrary to how his father used to grumble about—

 _Well. Not the time for reminiscing,_ he winced.

As Hatake took out clone after clone like he was swatting mosquitoes, Haruno threw a shuriken at his head, and Itachi smirked when the man caught it with his right hand and sent it reeling towards a clone.

"Hah!" Uzumaki crowed, and suddenly there was a wire wrapped around Hatake's fist.

Itachi sprinted towards the jōnin, one hand gripping the taut wire as he used the momentum to swing around Hatake's roundhouse kick while Uzumaki descended from the other side, fist pulled back and mouth drawn in a snarl. From her spot, Haruno landed four more senbon around Hatake, wires trapping his legs as they vibrated with chakra, ready to slice through flesh.

But just as Itachi was about to make contact with the man, he vanished, and Uzumaki slammed into the muddy ground with a groan, barely avoiding falling headfirst into the senbon. Itachi twisted around, trying to spot the jōnin—

Then everything went dark.

"Is that how an Uchiha fights?" tutted a deep voice, and from a swirl of smoke, a hauntingly familiar face emerged, pale as porcelain in the black shadows of the forest.

Itachi didn't notice himself falling to his knees.

"And you wonder why father never favoured you, brother."

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 **A/N: DEAR SWEET BABY JESUS GUYS I CAN'T BELIEVE THIS GOT SO MUCH LOVE; _thankyousomuch_ for reviewing and all the kind words sffsflj they really made my day and I'm sorry this took so long but HEY I GAVE YOU A GOOD ENDING DIDN'T I :D tell me what you think (don't yell at me for the cliffhanger pls)**


	3. Tango For Three

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Naruto_ franchise.**

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 **III. Tango For Three**

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"You'd know that, since you're the one that knew him the most... intimately," Itachi ground out. "How did it feel, clutching his heart in your hands?"

The illusion laughed, and Itachi immediately regretted opening his mouth.

"Jealousy doesn't suit you, kid," he smiled, resembling a cat faced with a bowl of milk. "Don't you feel happier now that all the pressure, all the expectations are gone? Doesn't it feel great to finally be free from their clutches?"

A crazed glint entered Sasuke's eye, and his lips, red and thin, curled. The rest of him looked identical to the man—no, _boy_ that had single-handedly slaughtered their clan.

Itachi didn't reply, knowing it was a futile effort to fight with a mere illusion. What was their sensei thinking, bombarding genin with potentially traumatizing genjutsu? If it had anyone else, someone a little more hot-blooded than he, Konoha would've have a problem on their hands.

Looking at his brother, his body flickering ever so slightly like a fading TV screen, Itachi calmly placed his palms together.

 _Release._

"...ACHI, ITACHI, ARE YOU DEAD?"

Shaking his head like a dog out of water, Itachi ignored the concerned blond, opting to bore holes into Hatake's masked face with his mere eyes.

"That was... unexpected," Hatake began, not even remotely apologetic. "The genjutsu wasn't supposed to be that strong."

"Did you expect that to happen?"

"Of course. You're talking about years of trauma. Repressed memories. They're bound to show up sometime," Hatake shrugged. "Just consider yourself lucky this didn't happen on the battlefield."

Another test? Did Hatake bait him on purpose to see how he'd react? Or was he testing Itachi's cool-headedness?

"Wait a minute, what happened?!" Uzumaki piped up, looking vaguely like he'd been hammered on the head with a rock. "Why did this guy just pass out and WOAH, WHAT THE HELL—"

Hatake poofed out of sight as the earth beneath him crumbled, leaving behind a man-sized hole. Haruno panted, sweat beading her forehead as she shot a glare at Uzumaki. An explosive tag fluttered in her grip.

"Are you on our team or his?" she snapped, running a hand through her tangled hair.

Uzumaki meekly apologized.

Gritting his teeth, Itachi turned away from the pair. How predictable. Hatake probably thought he would react explosively and fail him using that as an excuse. No one wanted a hair-trigger avenger being trained as a soldier. Not one that could possibly become a thorn in Konoha's side.

Was this the real test? Was the jōnin testing them for their abilities, their teamwork, or was he testing Itachi on his loyalty?

It was a given that if Itachi failed that his bloodline would be sealed until he fathered children. Konoha wouldn't want him being kidnapped, after all. And if he did pass... then Hatake was the only other ninja with a Sharingan. He was the only one that could teach an Uchiha.

So, now that he'd passed... what next? Hatake had never officially started their test, had he?

"Why is everyone so bloodthirsty?" Uzumaki whined, conveniently forgetting his own exuberance for fighting a while ago. "And is our test seriously up against a jōnin that's featured in the Bingo Book?"

"He never said anything," Haruno pointed out. "He just started attacking us, so we all assumed..."

"Pffft, assumed. He wants to kill us!" Uzumaki clutched his face, looking horrified. "I thought he was gonna skewer me!"

"Don't be so dramatic, Naruto," Haruno sighed. "Itachi-san, what do you propose we do next?"

Why did everything have to be so damn complicated?

Nevertheless, Itachi opened his mouth to answer.

"I propose you three go home to prepare for tomorrow," Hatake piped up, popping out of nowhere. The man really had a thing for surprises. "You all pass!"

"WHAT?"

"You've displayed admirable teamwork and thoughtfulness, which is what keeps a genin team alive long enough to graduate to chūnin," Hatake said. "Did you think I couldn't hear you discuss strategies on how to 'take that asshole down'?"

Uzumaki coughed uncomfortably.

"Regardless of your blatant disregard for manners—I'm deeply hurt, by the way—I've decided to pass you. Not because your individual skills impress me, not by a long shot, but because you managed to work together well enough to make me think you have potential."

Hatake was a different man from the lazy, sarcastic jōnin they'd been facing since this morning. Now, the man looked taller, colder. Almost nostalgic.

"Itachi-san was right," Haruno muttered in awe. "It really was about teamwork!" She looked relieved, as if the test had been weighing her petite shoulders down.

"Man, you're not half-bad!" grinned Uzumaki, clapping a hand on Itachi's shoulder. The latter twitched at the unfamiliar contact. "We're gonna make a pretty damn good team, eh?"

If his teammates didn't inevitably get themselves killed by rushing into things, Itachi thought they had an astonishingly good chance at making it past chunin.

Hatake beamed at them.

"How cute!"

It was well into the evening when Itachi made it back home, his eyes still twinging from the camera's flash.

They'd taken their official team photo right after, and Haruno had made a bit of a fuss, complaining that her hair looked greasy. Half an hour of Haruno rinsing out her hair in the Hokage Tower's bathroom later, she'd looked a little less murderous ("Forewarning is a thing, you know?") and they'd all reluctantly bundled up closer to pose.

Itachi switched on the lights and placed the photo-frame on a sidetable. Uzumaki looked gleeful, one of Hatake's hands ruffling his hair, while Haruno's face was caught between a smile and a wince at the bright flash. Itachi himself had no particular expression, but the corners of his lips were reluctantly upturned.

His mother had raised him better than to scowl in photos.

Yawning, he shrugged off his black tshirt, leaving the mesh undershirt on, and collapsed in bed.

He didn't switch off the lights.

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Itachi was six, unusually mature for his age and a magnet for attention. He didn't know why ladies in the market pinched his cheeks so much, but his mother had laughed it off.

"It's because you're cute, Ita-kun," she smiled, her eyes turning devious within the span of a second. "Why, even _I'd_ like to pinch your little cheeks!"

And then she'd grab onto him and he would pretend to struggle against her arms, secretly content within her warm embrace.

His father would laugh at them if he saw them, his usually stern visage softening beatifically. He never was home enough, or free from his work whenever he was, to be with his family, but Itachi knew he tried his best. Uchiha Fugaku may have been a shrewd clan head, but he was a good man.

A few times a week his older brother would come back from one of his top secret missions and they'd laze around together on Sasuke's bed, talking about what sort of weird things Sasuke had seen in Water Country and what books Itachi had read recently. Sasuke preferred to spend time with his younger brother more than he liked to train, a fact that irked their father to no end.

"You are wasting precious time, son," he would admonish. "Your brother will always remain here for you to spend time with, but you will not—not if you become weak enough to not return from your next mission."

Sasuke seemed to have taken the words seriously, because on Itachi's eighth birthday, he was in Suna and didn't return until two weeks later.

"I got you a potted cactus," Sasuke had apologetically offered.

Itachi had treasured it. He religiously watered it, keeping it beside his bed even though he had no fondness for plants. It was a gift from his brother, after all.

Sasuke was more distant now. Almost distracted. He was constantly going on missions, coming back home with a heaviness to his shoulders that belied his confident persona, peeling back practiced arrogance to reveal the thirteen-year old child beneath. Sometimes even Itachi forgot that there was only a five year gap between them.

He tried, honestly. He tried to talk to Sasuke about things that weren't just about how many people he'd killed this week or where he was assigned to next. Itachi tried to fill the tension that had seeped through the wooden floorboards of their house with mundane chatter, even though he wasn't much of a conversationalist.

For a while, he thought it was working. Sasuke came home more frequently, and maybe, just maybe, they'd be alright.

But then Shisui's limp, lifeless body, eyes plucked out of his skull, was found floating in a river and everything went to hell.

* * *

The next morning found Team Seven up to their knees in water.

"How is this training?" Uzumaki sniffed, his hair plastered to his scalp and waterlogged hoodie beyond any rescuing. _"HOW?"_

"Sakura-chan seems to be perfectly fine," Hatake pointed out.

Both their heads snapped to the girl, who was happily treading over the water's surface as she collected the trash floating within with a spear.

Uzumaki gaped, and Itachi feared a fly would find its way into his mouth.

"H-How is she doing THAT?" he exclaimed, dropping his trash bag in surprise. He promptly swore when his collection spilled out into the water again. "Fucking hell, I hate everything."

"Save your angst for puberty," their sensei recommended. "Itachi-kun, if you would mind explaining?"

Itachi, the only one still on dry, solid ground, raked in the rest of the leaves into the trash before dropping the rake with a sigh of relief. He rolled his shoulders languidly.

"What Haruno-san is doing is a very basic form of chakra manipulation," he began, Uzumaki nodding along eagerly. "Chakra, Uzumaki-san, is the energy that circulates within our body. It is what enables you to perform ninjutsu. All individuals, trained as shinobi or not, have chakra. You could call it our... life force."

"I know what _charka_ is!" Uzumaki pouted.

 _"Chakra,_ Uzumaki-san. Moving on, Haruno-san is redirecting her chakra flow to her feet in order to repel herself from the water. Hence, it appears as if she's walking on it, when in reality, she's merely floating over the surface. Think of it like two opposite magnets."

The blond rapidly nodded, waving him off. "I get it, I get it! So I just need to, uh, push chakra to... my feet?"

Hatake froze, snapping his book shut and lurching forward.

"Wait, Naruto, don't—"

Itachi grimaced as the smell of burning rubber pervaded his nostrils.

"HOLY FUCKING SHIT, I'M ON FIRE—"

"You weren't supposed to push all of your chakra to your feet," Hatake commented, shoving the blond into the pond.

Haruno appeared mildly concerned, prodding Uzumaki with the spear.

"Perhaps we should relocate, sensei," Itachi suggested, eyeing the charred grass with a critical eye. "Somewhere not as hazardous, maybe?"

Hatake sighed.

"With Naruto, nowhere is safe," he lamented. "Which reminds me, Itachi-kun, we should have a quick chat."

One brow raised high in askance, Itachi followed the man to the edge of the clearing, his teammates' squabbling fading into the background. He had a vague inkling of what Hatake wanted to talk about. There weren't that many topics in the first place.

The man plopped down, cross-legged, onto the grass. He patted the spot next to him.

Gingerly imitating his pose, Itachi waited for him to start.

"Your file stated that you've been through therapy?" Hatake spoke.

Nod.

"But I'm assuming you still have nightmares."

"Not... nightmares," Itachi frowned. "Dreams, yes."

Hatake hummed.

Itachi didn't particularly like the idea of spilling his heart out to a complete stranger, jōnin instructor of his or not, but he knew something had to give. Knowing Konoha's modus operandi when it came to culling their herd of soldiers, whatever he told Hatake today would most probably make it back to the T&I. There, his responses would be analyzed, and it would be decided if he was mentally fit enough to continue under Hatake.

Hypocritical, since he knew from experience that the stronger the shinobi, the more unsettled... more _insane,_ they were.

Then again, he couldn't fault them for not wanting a repeat of five years ago.

"I don't dream of the massacre, if that's what you're asking. Most nights, I sleep dreamlessly. But it does occasionally happen," he paused, licking his lips, "that my unconscious goes back to before the massacre, to the better memories leading up to that night. But never beyond it."

"You mean to say your mind repels the memory, even in an unconscious state?"

Itachi nodded.

"Sounds natural," Hatake said slowly, the gears within his head spinning. "I suppose your brain is trying to protect itself from further trauma."

Itachi knew he wasn't saying the complete truth, but he amicably inclined his head. Even he knew that there was something strange blocking his memory of that night. If he focused, he could remember his parents, his brother's solemn face shadowed in the flickering orange of the candlelight. But he couldn't remember beyond that. He couldn't even remember how he got to the hospital afterwards, or why Sasuke hadn't touched a hair on his head.

He didn't even know why Sasuke had done it.

It was frustrating. Itachi prided himself on being knowledgeable, and ignorance was a state he abhorred being in. To be forced into a capacity of unawareness was maddening.

But he couldn't go on a wild-goose chase yet. One day, he would have his answers.

"I would like it if you kept me updated on your... dreams, Itachi-kun," Hatake suggested softly.

Itachi nodded.

"I DID— _GLURGH!"_

"Naruto, don't drown!" Haruno groaned, pulling him out by the scruff of his hoodie. "Sensei, we're done!"

"Did he succeed?" Itachi questioned, heading over to the pond.

"Kinda," Haruno shrugged. "Stood on the surface for all of two seconds before he got so excited that he plummeted straight through."

"Sakura-chaaaaan!" Uzumaki wailed, resembling a drowned puppy. "I can totally do it now, watch!"

"Alright, team," Hatake interrupted, and Uzumaki grudgingly returned to the ground. "Congratulations on completing your first mission together!" He clapped, deadpan. "Seeing as the day is still young, I'll let you guys take a food break before regrouping in the training grounds in exactly... hmm, one hour?"

Uzumaki looked relieved, tugging at his wet clothes with a scrunched face.

"We can work on your water-walking skills too," Hatake added, making Haruno wince. Undoubtedly, he'd shove the responsibility on her.

"LET'S GO FOR RAMEN!" Uzumaki cheered, pumping a fist in the air. "I can change after—"

With a single handsign, a whirlwind surrounded the blond, drying him off immediately. Hatake cocked his head.

"— _orrrr_ not? Thanks, sensei!"

The three of them trudged to Ichiraku's, Uzumaki claiming that it was the best ramen stand in the entire Fire Nation, as Hatake muttered some excuse or the other and vanished. As always.

Haruno walked beside him, Uzumaki on his left. Itachi felt a little overwhelmed. One ear was bombarded with an unfaltering stream of words, while the pink-haired girl seemed to be lost in her own world. She walked with her head slightly dipped down, a certain nervousness in her gait that reminded him of his civilian cousins.

He tilted her chin upwards with his index finger, quirking a brow at her surprised face.

"Try to look confident. You're a ninja representing Konoha now."

"Oh. Um, right."

Uzumaki never stopped talking about his penchant for killing plants and the spoilt milk he'd accidentally drunk yesterday morning until they reached the famed rāmen stand.

"...and I pricked my finger on Mr. Ukki and it got all over the wall and I swear Iruka-sensei thought someone got murdered—OLD MAN, HEY!"

The 'old man', presumably the owner of the stand, looked up from a steaming pot of noodles to smile at the exuberant boy.

"Ah, Naruto-kun, I see you've brought friends," the owner smiled. "The regular?"

"Yes, please!"

"Oi, Naruto!" a raspy voice drawled. Itachi tilted his head, surprised to see Nara Shikamaru sitting at the counter. Behind him, Yamanaka Ino's pale face scrunched up in distaste while the Akimichi Chōji held up a hand in hello. "I guess you guys passed yesterday?"

"Damn right!" Uzumaki crowed. "Who'd you guys get?"

"Asuma," he yawned.

"That's Asuma- _sensei,_ Shikamaru," Yamanaka reproved. "I'm surprised you and Sakura passed, but Itachi-kun probably pulled all the weight, eh?"

A sneer curled over her glossy lips.

Itachi muffled a cough, amused. It appeared that his earlier conclusion was correct. The two girls must've had a falling out. He was no stranger to catty fighting, since his female cousins on the civilian side tended to dramatize everything. Most of them had grown out of it, but he could remember how vicious the girls would get.

If his male cousins weeded out the weak through physical altercations, then the Uchiha women waged outright psychological warfare.

"Ino, you look as fake as always," Haruno demurred. "I'm surprised your cakeface isn't considered a type of genjutsu in itself."

"Cake?" Uzumaki brightened up.

"Not that sort of cake, you idiot," Nara rolled his eyes. "And can the both of you save it until we're done eating? I don't like my meat bloody."

"Itachi-kun, how have you been?" Akimichi asked kindly. The larger boy had been unnervingly nice to everyone in their class. Even Itachi couldn't bring himself to answer him in a curt manner.

"Well. And you?"

Akimichi smiled nervously, eyes glancing between the predatory form of his teammate and the homicidal glint that pervaded Haruno's mint-green eyes.

Sighing, Itachi grabbed Haruno's sleeve and tugged her back down, not missing the way Yamanaka's eyes followed the movement.

"Here, Sakura-chan, eat up!" Uzumaki grinned, pushing a bowl of miso rāmen towards the fuming girl. She had somehow gained the honorific of -chan after helping Uzumaki with his water-walking earlier. Uzumaki had yet to refer him with similar adoration, although Itachi'd prefer it if he didn't.

"Thanks," she mumbled, pointedly ignoring Yamanaka's irritated huff.

"So, what did Asuma-sensei make you do yesterday?" Uzumaki asked, chewing around a mouthful of noodles. He swallowed abashedly after Itachi shot him a look.

"Just some core exercises, tested our stamina, strength, all that shit. Standard protocol."

"Your jōnin instructor didn't try to kill you? Neat," Uzumaki deadpanned.

"I'm sure you're exaggerating," Akimichi frowned.

"He is," Itachi clarified. He didn't bother mentioning the genjutsu, since not even his teammates really knew what happened. Other than that, everything had been according to protocol, although he would've vastly preferred the Bell Test.

He wondered why Hatake had scrapped it. Was it really because Itachi had predicted it?

"Dammit, Naruto," Nara said.

"What? Seriously, man, you'd think he was up against an enemy or something! He was so fast! One moment he's in front of me, then ZOOM, HE'S OVER THERE!"

"Still doesn't mean he's gonna, like, zoom you to death," Nara sighed. "You're such a kid."

"Whatever, at least our sensei is cool," Uzumaki huffed. "Did you know he reads porn in public?"

Akimichi choked, and Yamanaka slammed a fist against his back.

"Naruto!" Haruno hissed, looking vaguely scandalized as she glared at him over the rim of her bowl.

"What? It's perfectly normal! I bet even Mr. Prim-And-Proper Uchiha here gets off—"

The Nara slapped a hand over Uzumaki's overlarge mouth before he could continue, sensing what was about to come next.

Itachi, on the other hand, was struggling not to chuckle. Uzumaki's idiocy was a welcomed reprieve from the quandary that had been beleaguering him since yesterday.

He'd overheard Shisui say worse things on multiple occasions, anyway.

"Our hour's up," he notified his team, wordlessly slipping a bill towards the stand-owner. Haruno opened her mouth, glancing at the money, but he shushed her. "Argue with me on splitting the bill later. Let's go." He inclined his head at Team Ten.

"See ya, Shikamaru, Chōji!" Uzumaki beamed, having chugged down the rest of his rāmen, bowls-up.

"You didn't have to!" Haruno immediately hissed into his ear as they walked off. "I can pay for myself!"

Itachi had honestly thought it would be a good way of building camaraderie between them. Didn't people like it when they didn't have to spend their own money? It wasn't like he was scraping by either. His family had already been well-off, and as the sole surviving member, the rest of the clan's riches had been left to him.

There was yet still a sizeable sum left after donating half the money to the orphanage.

"Did you not like it?" he asked, genuinely curious.

Haruno paused, ignoring Uzumaki's heavy footsteps as he caught up to them.

"It wasn't a matter of dislike, as much as you're not obliged to pay for me—or us," she slowly began, looking slightly unsure. "I mean, friends pay for each other all the time, but you don't _have_ to."

He took it as a sign that Haruno was uncomfortable with the idea of being squandered under favors. That was a feeling he could relate to.

"I wanted to. However, you can pay for us next time, if you're that uneasy about it," he smoothly offered.

Haruno smiled at him.

Note, he mentally catalogued, does not like being treated as helpless.

Interesting.

* * *

 **A/N: If you're confused, YES, I did take down the original chapter three. Why? Because I felt guilty and it really sucked. I'm never rushing a chapter again. I felt bad, so I sat down and forced myself to rewrite this. I actually like this version better! Moving on, THANK YOU FOR THE AWESOME RESPONSE TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER. I love you guys and your opinions matter a lot, so shoot me a review. ;)**

 **Question of the chapter: Do you like the canon Naruto/Sasuke friendship better or the dynamic that Roar!Naruto/Itachi have?**


	4. Paint It Red

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Naruto_ franchise**.

* * *

—

 **IV. Paint It Red**

—

* * *

Girls weren't supposed to get their hands dirty.

Sakura wondered why they never applied that to gardening. By the end of their kunoichi lessons, she was covered from head to toe in mud. Benefits of recognizing plants in the wild set aside, she couldn't understand the underlying hypocrisy in the Academy.

Why didn't any of the boys in her class have to take lessons on Konoha's flora? They didn't honestly expect the boys to pick up a book on botany on their own, did they? What if there wasn't a girl who'd taken Kunoichi Classes™ with them, and the poor sod ended up mistaking poisonous mushrooms as being edible food?

Was this the standard of Konoha's education? No wonder Kiri was kicking their ass in the Chūnin Exams every year.

Sakura scrubbed off the last layer of grime, the smell of soap and vanilla steaming up within the small shower stall.

Just three more days until she graduated. No more stinky fertilizer or thorny plants. It sounded like bliss.

"What's taking her so long?" whined Ami's squeaky voice, and Sakura bit back a groan. "You don't even have all that much to wash, Haruno! Get out and let the rest of us clean up!"

A chorus of laughter followed her words. Sakura could practically imagine the smug, pleased look on Ami's ratlike face. She rolled her eyes, deliberately pulling on her clothes with forced slowness.

"Did you hear me, Haruno? Get the hell out!" Ami's henchwoman, a blond girl that eerily reminded her of Ino from middle school, snapped. A set of knuckles rapped against the cubicle's thin metal door.

"Would you stop screaming?" an irritated voice cut through, and the knocking stopped.

Well, well, well.

Sakura paused, ears pricked up.

"I-Ino, I didn't know you were in there!" Ami blustered. The girl sounded terrified, and Sakura would've laughed if she wasn't so bone-tired. "I didn't mean to, uh, disturb you or anything—"

"Just shut up and leave," Ino coolly suggested. "It's not like showering's gonna make you look or smell any better than you already don't."

Ami choked on something incomprehensible, and the sound of three heavy footsteps scrambling to leave reached Sakura's ears.

That was strange.

Sakura knew just how shrewd Ino was, a relative contrast to her angelic appearance. Ino never did anything out of the goodness of her heart; she was an heiress in every definition of the word, and she knew just how to navigate society and manipulate people to her own benefit.

When Sakura got out of the shower, fully dressed and more than just a little confused, Ino was waiting for her. Arms crossed over her ample chest, blonde hair swept up in a damp bun, and blue eyes sharp, she looked every bit like the stereotypical mean girl Sakura read about in her silly novels.

"You're still as nonconfrontational as ever," Ino commented.

"I don't see the point in lowering myself to their level."

"Well, you better start, because once we graduate, it's a dog-eat-dog world out there."

Sakura cocked a brow. This was definitely unusual. Ino, offering advice? Maybe she was feeling particularly preachy.

"What brought about this change of heart, Ino? I thought you couldn't stand the sight of me," she sneered.

The blonde clicked her tongue exasperatedly.

"Oh, I can't. Honestly. I feel infuriated whenever I see you, trust me," Ino reassured her. "It's just that..."

"... you still feel guilty," Sakura finished bitterly. "Don't bother, Ino. Leave the past in the past—we're… enemies, now, remember?"

"That's not what I meant," Ino stiffly said. "You're doing it again, putting words in my mouth! This is exactly why we—"

Sakura didn't bother listening, grabbing her bag and storming out of the girls' locker room.

She didn't need to be reminded of the ghosts haunting her.

* * *

 _Color faded to static monochrome and all that could be felt, was tangible and real, was sticky, warm, and nauseating. It coated everything, slipping out of one container to paint her soul a vivid shade that she couldn't see, not with her vision so obscured by salty, bitter moisture and a haze of loathing._

* * *

Sakura was intelligent enough to predict who her teammates would be before it was even announced to the class.

She sat near the front of the class, hands clasped together as she tuned out the chatter surrounding her. Today was the day. Today would decide her path as a ninja. Everything depended on this.

People who knew the old Sakura—the one that wore a ribbon in her hair and paraded around with a goofy grin on her young, cherubic face—would balk if they saw her now. Her classmates thought she wasn't much of a talker, more invested in shoving her nose into books than in mindless chitchat. Sakura couldn't say they were wrong, since she did prefer to be left alone most of the time.

Books didn't demand anything from her. They didn't hold expectations or ask her to fill in the silence with her scratchy, prepubescent voice that only further reminded her of her immaturity.

Talking to people was exhausting. She couldn't keep up with the girls in class without feeling overloaded with information.

Who cared if Mina from the other division wore the same outfit twice in a row? It was so stupid.

Often, she would find herself sitting next to Hyūga Hinata to escape the chaos that seemed to erupt in class whenever people like Uzumaki Naruto and Inuzuka Kiba got together.

Hinata was nice. She didn't prod her or attempt to fill the silence that tended to diffuse between them. Sakura appreciated that. They held a mutual understanding between them, and it was… nice.

Once upon a time, she would've balked at the idea of refusing to participate in social niceties. Her parents had raised her better than that.

Nowadays, she just couldn't bother mustering up the energy required to communicate more than she absolutely needed to.

The constant screeching in the recesses of her own skull was enough noise for a lifetime.

Massaging her temple with her fingers, she half-heartedly followed Iruka's speech as he congratulated them on making it to genin; how proud he was, and how they'd be facing gruesome, horrible things that he didn't want them to see, but ultimately couldn't do anything about. They'd chosen this path, hadn't they?

Would he pity Sakura if he knew she'd already… _seen_ things? Done things?

It was funny how she still couldn't say the damn word.

When Uchiha Itachi and Uzumaki Naruto's names were announced with hers, she didn't blink. Of course: this was the result she had concluded. The perfect balance of prodigy, dead last, and the brainy civilian girl—or simply, the sword, the shield, and the band-aid.

She knew that team compositions were made with meticulous care. According to Sakura's file, her chakra control was the best in the class, rivaling Hyūga Hinata's, which was surprising because the Hyuga fighting style depended on delivering precise strikes to tenketsu points. That a mere civilian with shoddy Academy training was adept enough to become the Hyūga heiress' direct competition clearly made them reconsider Sakura's placement.

Being female, she was already a laughably minor part of the ninja force. Most kunoichi stuck to medical arts, due to having a biological propensity for chakra control—like the Slug Princess, Tsunade. The latter, however, distinguished herself by using her medical prowess to maim and kill, which Sakura could admire. Yet, in spite of Tsunade's fearsome reputation, in the public eye kunoichi were held to a certain stereotype that she absolutely loathed.

As if the teams' skewed gender ratio weren't a clear enough indicator, the supervising officers seemed like they wanted to hammer it in that kunoichi were supposed to be in support roles with the way they set up the teams.

She could already see it: Uchiha Itachi would naturally, nigh seamlessly, gravitate towards the frontline, while Uzumaki Naruto would serve as the heavy-weight meatshield. And then there would be Haruno Sakura, patching them up after battles and wishfully sighing of what could have been.

The possibility frightened her.

Because she knew it was too realistic for her comfort.

* * *

 _It was funny how the metal felt like it belonged in her small, childish palms. Slippery and sharp, she clutched it to her chest even though her mind was screaming no, get it away from me, repulsed by the sins the dagger carried within its inanimate shell. As if distance could ease pain, as if distance from the tool could distance her from the reality of it all._

* * *

The sky was a miserable blue as they trudged back to the Hokage Tower. An entire month of D-rank missions had left them irritable—and 'them' meaning her and Naruto.

She couldn't understand how Itachi never seemed to budge from his constant state of zen. It was like he had the patience of a saint. Never had she been him snap or look disgruntled, at least not publicly. On the other hand, she was ready to physically assault Naruto if he kept complaining in that loud, grating voice of his—

"I don't get it, even Itachi said we had to do eighteen D-ranks before moving to C-rank missions!" Naruto scowled, staring defiantly at the weary Hokage. The _Hokage_ , of all people. How the hell was Naruto getting away with it? "I'm pretty sure we've done double that!"

Iruka, sitting behind a monstrous stack of folders, shook his head vigorously at Kakashi, mouthing 'no'.

Of course, their teacher just had to go and do the opposite. Sakura personally thought he took too much pleasure in deliberately pissing people off.

"I agree with Naruto," Kakashi nodded.

"—I mean, it's not fair, and Kakashi-sensei, you're supposed to back me up—"

"He just did, you useless paperclip!" Sakura pinched the bridge of her nose.

"—what, huh, really? KAKASHI-SENSEI, SERIOUSLY?" Naruto beamed, a look of complete adoration lighting up his face. "You're the best!"

He whooped, holding out a fist towards the tall jōnin.

Kakashi's visible eye blinked slowly, before he tentatively bumped the proffered fist.

"I suppose we could give you an escort mission," the Hokage conceded, pretending the last five minutes hadn't happened. She could sympathize.

"Thank you for your consideration, Hokage-sama," Itachi bowed, the only one of them with any social sense. Sakura hurriedly copied him, roughly tugging down Naruto with her.

"Let's see," Iruka grumbled, looking distinctly disapproving of the Hokage's decision, rifling through papers. Sakura thought it was cute, how much he seemed to care about his students. "A builder from Wave Country sent in a request a while ago."

"I was thinking of changing the rank on that one," the Hokage said, shaking his head. "Apparently there's some unresolved conflict in that area with the local goons."

"Well, then there's… there's a mission up north near Grass," Iruka squinted. "It's a transport mission. Not too dangerous!" He looked relieved, and Sakura smothered down a tinge of fondness.

"We'll take it!" Naruto happily yapped.

Off to the side, Itachi's forehead creased in a shadow of a frown.

Her gut clenched in response, and she understood his uncertainty.

Something was bound to go wrong, wasn't it?

* * *

 _Was she supposed to feel relieved? Or was her heart already shriveling up? Was this normal? She knew it was self-defense, but was she wrong? Had she—_

* * *

The journey had begun with Naruto's energy levels skyrocketing the moment they left the sanctum of Konoha's gates.

"Slow down before you tire yourself out," Kakashi warned him, his eyes unmoving from the obnoxious orange book he held, strolling along the trail as if he owned the entire forest.

It made her wonder how he'd react to a serious situation, since she'd never seen Kakashi look solemn. Well, except for that one time when he'd declared them as a full-fledged team. That had been freaky, for sure.

Naruto, literally skipping, waved back at them from up ahead.

"I don't know when you'll let us out of the dungeon again, sensei, let me breathe in fresh air this once!"

A tad dramatic, but she couldn't fault him. The weather was cheery, the sun bright and a gentle breeze keeping them sufficiently cool. Even Itachi looked a little less morose today.

Speaking of…

"Itachi-san?" she tried.

"Hm?"

"How badly do you think this is gonna go?"

He tilted his head, silky black hair falling across his cheek as he thought. Sakura tried not to let her jealousy show through a scowl. Uchiha genes were clearly on a completely different level—she doubted he even knew what conditioner was.

"We seem to be of similar minds," Itachi said wryly. "There are multiple possibilities that come to mind, but ultimately... I don't think we'll die just yet."

"That was… reassuring," she slowly said, puffing up her cheeks. "I'm more concerned about our mental wellbeing, given that we've all got a terrible track record."

 _Fuck._

That was insensitive.

Sakura winced.

To her befuddlement, Itachi ignored her tactless slipup. Was he used to people offhandedly making comments, or was he being kind about her dumb moment?

"What sort of record might yours be?" he asked instead, and Sakura suddenly felt like that was worse than him getting angry at her and ignoring her for the rest of the trip.

For how wise Itachi might be, and she was sure he'd perused through her Academy data just like she'd done for him and Naruto, he genuinely didn't know what it was that made her stand on equal grounds of depressing life-stories with them.

"Well," she bit her lip. This was going to be pleasant. "I was seven. My, uh, friend, she was… well, someone tried to kidnap her and I killed him."

Other than the understated quirk to his brow, Itachi remained passive.

"It was… strange. I didn't feel bad. At all. My brain just switched off and the only thing that kept me from passing out in shock was the fact that I had to protect I— _my friend._ I remember staying conscious until help arrived. Afterwards… I don't… it's hazy."

Exhale, slowly. Breathe in, count to ten.

"Therapy helped, but…" How was she supposed to tell him she had another voice stuck in her head? Granted, Inner Sakura (as she'd lazily dubbed her) didn't show up often these days, nevertheless there was still a lingering sense of fear that, one day, she'd snap and Inner would ruin everything she'd so meticulously built around her.

"If you hadn't killed that man, would you be able to find with peace with your… friend's eventual assault?" Itachi questioned.

"No!" she gasped, old feelings of protectiveness rearing their head. She couldn't imagine tiny, innocent little Ino being hurt. Not when she could've done something to stop it. "I'd never be able to look at her in the eye again!" No matter how the incident had shattered their friendship, left them both with tenuous threads of resentment towards each other (for ruining one's innocence, for taking a life, for forcing them to grow up), Sakura would've done it again and again and _again_ if she had to.

Sister, she'd called her once. Sisters didn't abandon each other, even if they grew apart, grew so different that it was painful to look at each other without remembering what had been.

"Then… you shouldn't have to be ashamed of saving a life," he simply said, as if his words were absolute and all-encompassing. As if everything would be okay, and maybe they could be friends again.

Sakura admired his muted empathy.

"Thank you, Itachi-san," she murmured.

He inclined his head, and they walked in comfortable silence.

That wasn't so bad. In fact, she felt better, freer—like the admission of her deep-rooted guilt to a person that wasn't bound by a Hippocratic Oath to help her was the elixir to her pain.

Sakura smiled, a jaunty bounce to her steps.

It took them three hours to reach Grass, with the occasional pitstops when Naruto drank too much water and had to take a leak. Kakashi, the sadistic bastard, made them resume walking while the blond was busy behind the bushes, making Naruto scream at their retreating backs while he hastily zippered up.

She wondered if he even washed his hands and promptly shuddered in horror.

 _Bad mental images._

Kusagakure was beautiful in a way that made one admire the intricacies of nature itself. True to its name, bamboo trees and vivid green leaves the size of her torso covered the entire landscape, a small clearing leading to the tall, proud stone gates that reminded her of ancient fortresses from the Shodai's era.

The guards stationed at the checkpoint took one look at their forehead protectors and immediately became disinterested with them, as if the leaf symbol was enough to verify their harmlessness.

 _An estimate that could've gotten them killed,_ she heard Itachi's voice offhandedly murmur from behind her. _Reckless._

"Where's the client?" Naruto asked, energy visibly thrumming through his body. He tapped his foot for a while, before giving up and pacing in front of the border security, who gave him a dirty look that went ignored.

"He should be here in… oh, looky," Kakashi chirped, finally removing his nose from his book. Sakura rolled her eyes. "Ah, Kamizuri-san!"

A weathered old man, hunched over from the cruelty of age, ambled towards them, a pair of relatively younger men drawing a palanquin in his wake.

 _"You're_ the team from Konoha?" Kamizuri asked, his voice rough with a smoker's rasp.

Naruto tapped his forehead protector smugly in response, then turned around and rather conspicuously asked Sakura, "Are you sure the old dude won't keel over ten minutes into walking?"

A cane whacked the side of his head before he could blink, and Sakura bristled angrily.

"Sir, you may be our client but you can't _hit_ your bodyguard whenever you feel like it!" she snapped, tugging the groaning blond behind her.

"Disrespectful brats," Kamizuri hissed. "I'm beginning to doubt if you children are qualified for the job. The cargo is extremely precious, and I won't have you ruining my life's work by your incompetence!"

Kakashi coughed. "Rest assured, my team is _more_ than qualified, Kamizuri-san."

Kamizuri paused, glancing at the jōnin flak-jacket Kakashi wore, and calmed down. He mumbled something else under his breath, and snapped his fingers at the two men behind him, who hastily deposited the palanquin to the ground and helped him into it.

"Oh, that explains—" Naruto began, realization dawning on his face, but was thankfully interrupted by Itachi nonverbally gesturing him to shut up. "Er, yeah. Okay. Let's get a move on!"

"Protective formation three, chop-chop!" Kakashi called, vanishing to the back of the group. Itachi took up the front of the v-formation, Sakura flanking his left and Naruto jogging beside the palanquin on his right. "It's another hour to Takigakure, so keep a steady pace."

Glancing back at the two men, who were already beginning to sweat from the additional weight of Kamizuri, Sakura felt pity rise within her. Poor things, they'd have to carry the heavy palanquin for an entire hour.

"Asshole," Naruto muttered under his breath, the wind carrying over his voice clearly.

"Well, you were a bit rude," Sakura sighed. "But he shouldn't have immediately resorted to physical means."

"Uh, did you just agree with me or…?" he deadpanned, tugging at his bright hair while he walked.

Rolling her eyes, Sakura said, "Never mind, Naruto. Just… just keep an eye out and do your job."

Chirping back a cheery affirmative, Naruto vanished behind the palanquin.

Honestly, Sakura didn't expect anything grandiose on their first 'real' mission. Grandeur meant danger, and danger meant injuries— _death,_ even. She was happy with the menial work they got, because it kept them alive, no matter how much Naruto liked to complain about being babied or the way Itachi's eyes glinted with subtle annoyance every time they had to chase after the Daimyo's wife's cat. They were skilled, but they weren't invincible, she reasoned. Legends weren't made in a day, they had to remain alive until the time was right.

 _No use in dying on your first mission, right?_

Still.

Something felt off.

Twenty minutes into their walk, it became clear that even Itachi could sense the disturbance niggling at her.

"What is it?"

"Sometimes I wish you were a Hyūga," she responded, sighing. "That three-sixty vision sure would come in handy about now."

"We have Kakashi," Itachi replied, unfazed.

"Yeah, but—"

Wordlessly, Itachi tugged her down with him, and she gaped, confused, before her ears registered it.

A high-pitched thrumming as _it,_ whatever _it_ was, sailed over them, and then for a split second, there was silence.

"What—"

 _BOOM!_

Naruto cackled in glee from somewhere near them.

"FUCKING FINALLY!"

"Naruto, stay right where you are!" Sakura hissed, her grip vice-like on his jacket as she restrained him from leaping out into the clearing. They had no idea who their enemy was, why was he so oblivious—

And then she was flying, the explosion ringing in her ears, Itachi's hand uselessly grasping at thin air, and everything _hurt_. It hurt _so bad._

"Nnggh—!"

 _...she vividly remembered the way he'd died. The kunai punctured his carotid artery, and the blood that painted her was a bright crimson. Her hands didn't shake, they were too numb. The movement of her eyes was strangely stable, even through her tears, as she stared at Ino's bruised face, covered by her shock of blonde hair..._

Her mouth parted, and she struggled to breathe. Suddenly, she was seven years old again, except this time she was the one lying helpless on the ground.

"I-Ino?"

A laugh, and pale platinum bangs shifted from the covered eye, and her illusion broke.

"The name's Deidara, un," the man crooned, before he delivered the finishing blow.

* * *

 **A/N: look who's back in RECORD TIME! would it help if I said your feedback made me write this out a lot quicker than I usually do? love does strange things to people ;)**

 **oKAY SO I HOPE THAT ANSWERS THE WHOLE "WHAT'S UP WITH INO AND SAKURA" thing; fear not, more explanations are coming your way, and we'll finally get to see the new team seven in action next chapter!**

 **please leave me a quick comment telling me what you liked, didn't like, or outright hated (no not really, don't hurt my feelings please)**

 **Question of the chapter: What's your favorite bloodlimit/doujutsu?**


	5. Weight In Gold

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Naruto_ franchise.**

* * *

—

 **V. Weight In Gold**

—

* * *

"SAKURA-CHAN!" Uzumaki screamed, lunging towards her fallen, crumpled body.

Itachi, having risen from his crouch, deftly swerved around the blond's flailing hands and kneed him in the stomach, grabbing his shoulder to firmly plant him into the ground. Uzumaki gasped soundlessly, and Itachi felt a twang of guilt.

"Stay put!" Kakashi ordered, for once looking serious. Before either of the boys could blink, he'd reappeared where the missing-nin was looming over their teammate, parrying the incoming kunai with ease.

"B-but, Sakura-chan might get hurt!" Uzumaki protested, looking horrified yet awed by the breakneck pace at which Kakashi was countering the missing-nin. Itachi, however, kept up with them without difficulty. He knew he was easily at Kakashi's level when it came down to it, but for now, he preferred to observe. The only reason why he hadn't been fast-tracked to jōnin after his yearly evaluation was that the Hokage felt a strange duty to give him a 'normal' childhood, whatever that was. However… this encounter thrilled him; he wasn't one for mindless bloodshed, but to face an opponent of equal power was a reprieve from the mindless genin-level missions they'd been forced to do for the entirety of the past month.

"She'll be fine," Itachi assured him. "Kakashi's already leading him away."

And true to his word, the combatants had moved from the crater Haruno's body had formed towards the depths of the forest, trees shrouding their movements and shadows masking sharp steel. Kakashi thrived in this environment, but the missing-nin was clearly frustrated at being backed into a corner.

A niggling feeling itched at his brain, and Itachi knew he'd seen the missing-nin somewhere. His hair was obnoxious enough to permanently mark himself in his memory, but the way he fought was odd. The missing-nin wasn't bad at taijutsu, not if he could take on Kakashi as he was currently, but he was restricting himself. His movements were spastic, albeit fast, and he seemed irked at none of his half-hearted hits landing on the jōnin. It was as if he was being pained to fight hand-to-hand.

So, he wasn't a taijutsu specialist, and the heavy, brutish fighting style was definitely from Iwa, if his memory served him right.

Blond and relatively young ex-Iwa nin?

Itachi furrowed his brow, still thinking when Kamizuri let out a gasp of horror. He'd almost forgotten about the man.

The palanquin laid lopsided on the ground, and the guards were nowhere to be seen—they probably ran off the moment the bomb went off. Kamizuri was awkwardly squashed in a corner of the heavy palanquin, but apparently it wasn't the discomfort of the wooden frame digging into his shoulder that shocked him. Tearing away his gaze from the man's beady black eyes, Itachi turned to look at what had awed him so.

Uzumaki swore, and Itachi suddenly remembered the missing-nin's name.

A humongous clay bird broke through the dense trees, the wings cutting down oak like a blade through butter, and Kakashi vanished just before a particularly gigantic tree landed where he'd been. Uzumaki took the moment to run over to Haruno, leaving Itachi to guard over Kamizuri.

Deidara No Iwa, member of the Akatsuki, cackled from overhead, his palms pointed outwards. Itachi noted the handmouths with a clinical gaze, spotting the clay it was chewing voraciously. Kamizuri needed to be moved, it seemed.

"Uzumaki, don't jostle her!" Itachi ordered, although he was sure even Uzumaki knew the basic first-aid protocol. Physically moving Haruno while she had possibly broken something could be disastrous.

"What else am I supposed to do then?" he yelled back, looking vaguely horrified every time he glanced up at the off-white creature circling above. "Oh, wait—"

In a rare display of intellect, Uzumaki body-flickered both of them away, reappearing deeper in the forest and away from the crazed bomber's range.

"Kamizuri-san," Itachi said, offering the man a hand. "Quickly."

As the man reluctantly placed his weathered hand in his own, another explosion rung in the clearing as Kakashi neatly leapt out of the way of a barrage of small clay spiders, his forehead protector pulled away from his other eye.

Seeing the Sharingan on another living human was an odd sight, but Itachi didn't have time to ponder any of that, grabbing their client and reappearing where Uzumaki was nervously hovering over Haruno.

Kamizuri snatched his hand away and began muttering under his breath almost immediately.

"How is she?" Itachi asked, ignoring the older man's grumbling.

"I don't think she's dead," Uzumaki squeaked, looking paler than he'd ever been. "Can you check?"

"Oh for Kami's sake, _move,"_ Kamizuri groaned, pushing past Itachi to critically peer at the girl. "Shinobi, so useless when it comes to anything other than ripping out someone's throat."

Itachi did have medical knowledge, but he wisely kept his mouth shut when the older man's hands began to glow green. The ground shuddered once again, and this time they all winced at the sound of several trees crashing down. By the time they were done, the forest would resemble a desert.

"What?" Kamizuri barked at Uzumaki, who was frowning at him.

"You're being awfully helpful," he replied non-committally.

"I didn't expect the Akatsuki to show up!" Kamizuri snapped. "Not for a shipment of sc—er, vases!"

"Hey, how about you give us half—"

"Don't test me, Naruto," came a weak groan from the floor, and Haruno cracked open one eye to glare at the boy.

"Sakura-chan!" he wailed, dropping beside her and grabbing her hand, a scene fitting for the most tragic of plays.

"Don't crowd her," Itachi commented, critically examining the way her forehead, large and expressive as ever, wrinkled with the force of her frown. "And don't talk so loudly."

"Oops, sorry," Uzumaki whispered, looking pitiful as his wide blue eyes almost swallowed his entire face. "How d'you feel?"

"Like shit," Haruno croaked.

Uzumaki grinned and offered her a bottle of water from his utility belt.

"What about your sensei?" Kamizuri asked Itachi, a pensive look on his wizened face. "It's gone quiet."

"Shouldn't we go check?" Uzumaki added. "Something smells fishy."

"Don't rush ahead," Itachi told him, pulling out a kunai. "We will not interfere unless it looks like Kakashi requires our assistance."

 _And we as in you,_ he added mentally.

"Uh, sure."

When they arrived back at the clearing, which had grown double in size after the forest had been blown away by the explosion and now resembled a wasteland full of craters and uprooted trees, they found Kakashi hunched over and bleeding.

Uzumaki paled immediately.

Kakashi, looking like he'd been mauled by a pack of dogs, his clothing singed and sleeves missing, didn't bother looking up. Now that the initial surprise had worn off, Itachi noticed a short tantō in the jōnin's hand. The blade was a beautiful vibrant blue, and he vaguely saw it shimmer.

The tantō quivered, and Itachi's sharp eyes caught a crackle of lightning run up the side.

Ah. So, Kakashi had diffused the bomb with lightning?

"HEY, WATCH IT!" Uzumaki yelled, and pulled Itachi with him. A split second later, a grey bird dive-bombed where they'd been standing, a cloud of smoke rising from the crater.

Itachi blinked, shaking his head. He had been planning to parry the bird with a water jutsu, just to see if the clay would crack from moisturize seeping into it.

"…Thank you." It wouldn't hurt to be nice, even though he'd missed an opportunity.

"Don't sweat it—we're teammates!" Uzumaki grinned, but then abruptly scowled as Deidara circled overhead. "Damn, doesn't his chakra ever deplete? We can't get him unless he comes down."

Kakashi, now running out of secure ground to perch on, slashed across the air with his tantō—and then he felt it.

Static crawled across his skin, and the air around Deidara visibly contracted. Arcs of vivid blue electricity flew towards the missing-nin, and while Deidara was quick enough to direct the bird away from the concentration of lightning chakra, one of the bird's majestic wings, previously so grand yet now a major drawback, got clipped. The clay instantly froze and fell to the ground, diffused by the electricity and lying limp on the ruined remnants of blackened grass.

This didn't faze the blond bomber, however, and he neatly leapt off the bird at a safe distance from Kakashi's panting form.

The Sharingan must be draining his chakra, Itachi realized. They had to act fast.

Before he could voice his plan, a horde of shadow clones were rushing towards Deidara, and Uzumaki himself had pulled out shuriken.

"Divert his attention," Itachi said, feeling pleased that Uzumaki could successfully grasp the situation, "and while he's busy, I'll substitute with your clones."

Uzumaki nodded, staying off to the side and controlling his clones like a master puppeteer.

According to what Itachi had in mind, it would be a fairly simple strategy. Uzumaki's clones would distract the missing-nin, giving Kakashi time to breathe and charge another Chidori—he assumed it was a Chidori, since that was the only major lightning jutsu he'd read about in his sensei's file. When the right moment struck, he would substitute himself behind Deidara and weigh him down with a water jutsu. If all went to plan, the bomber wouldn't be able to churn out more clay that wasn't fractured and soggy.

He watched Deidara annihilate Uzumaki's clones with a clinical eye. Deidara was fast, but Itachi was faster—he could keep up with Sasuke, and Deidara's taijutsu didn't even begin to touch the mastery that Sasuke had achieved. Deidara seemed to favor his right side, partly because his left eye was covered by a curtain of hair. It wasn't a glaringly obvious flaw, but it gave him an idea.

"Holy shit, this guy is a freak," Uzumaki grunted, more clones popping into existence as Deidara easily dealt with the rest, only using his legs or shoulders as his hands sculpted another bird. "There, Itachi!"

Flickering into existence behind the bomber, Itachi grabbed a chunk of the man's hair, twisting his neck backwards until he could see Deidara struggle to breathe, veins stark against his throat, as he tried to twist away.

"Water Release: Wild Water Wave!"

It was an extremely basic technique, but sometimes, simple was better than flashy.

Deidara freed himself, sopping wet, and glared mutinously at Itachi. Then, he froze. His solitary eye widened as recognition flashed on his face, which turned sour instantly.

 _Take it, take the bait..._

"Ah, Sasuke's little brother," Deidara snarled, venom dripping from every syllable.

Artists, from what Itachi had gathered, were an emotional bunch. A person like Deidara, who prided himself on his art enough to use it in battle, would undoubtedly be passionate and loud, as he'd confirmed during the start of the fight. And if he knew his brother, then Sasuke would never have gotten along with Deidara on the basis of sheer principle. Logical, cold-blooded and arrogant Uchiha Sasuke did not mesh well with passionate artists with tempers short enough to blow fuses.

Well, that, and Itachi had a backup plan if this one failed.

"You know my brother?" he asked, quirking a brow.

"Know?" Deidara laughed mirthlessly. "I detest your brother, baby Uchiha. If I had it my way, he'd be dead a long, long while ago."

This wasn't just dislike, Itachi realized. His brother must have truly pissed off the bomber.

"You're welcome to try, although I can't guarantee your success in that endeavor," Itachi dryly said.

Deidara turned red, his brows furrowing and teeth grinding audibly. He would've made a terrifying figure if he hadn't been dripping wet and had his hair plastered to his face.

"You—!"

Kakashi smiled at Itachi, holding a slumped over Deidara, who he noticed couldn't have been more than one or two years older than them, the blond's face smoothening into something more childish and round in his unconscious state.

"You need to teach me that lightning jutsu," Uzumaki commented, jogging up to them. "He went out like a light! Pun intended!"

"That's only because Itachi-kun here drenched him in water," Kakashi said, pulling his forehead protector back down. "Water and electricity don't mesh very well, you see."

The jōnin made quick work of binding Deidara up, producing rope from his tattered utility belt.

"Man, Itachi, you're pretty cool," Uzumaki gaped at him. "Isn't this guy an S-ranked missing-nin?"

"A-ranked," Itachi corrected him. Although... Deidara could very well be on the verge of S-rank, if only he hadn't let his emotions mislead him.

"We're heading back to Konoha," Kakashi declared. "We lost the parcel and we've got a member of the Akatsuki with us. The mission has been cancelled."

"Er, don't you mean the mission has been unsuccessful?" Uzumaki piped up.

Kakashi shrugged, and it was only Itachi's reflexes that caught the man before he collapsed to the ground.

"IS HE DEAD? OH MY GOD."

"Chakra exhaustion," Itachi sighed, heaving the man up and supporting him with a shoulder. "Grab Deidara and the palanquin."

"Are we putting this guy in the palanquin?" Uzumaki frowned, looking at the smoking remains of the delicate wooden caravan.

"No, we're tying him to it. Think wheelbarrows."

"Makes it easier to transport him, gotcha!"

When they got back to Haruno and Kamizuri, Itachi felt his eyes twitch in irritation. Half of his team was unconscious or injured, and Uzumaki Naruto, of all people, was entrusted with keeping an A-ranked missing-nin bound and caged.

Although Deidara did look comical tied to the wooden frame of the palanquin, which they'd stripped of its broken sides and reconstructed into an actual wheelbarrow using the excess rope they'd found in Kakashi's belt.

"What… what is—" Kamizuri began, looking vaguely horrified at the fact that Kakashi resembled charred pork by this point, angry red burns crawling up his arms. "How did you two not die?"

"Gee, that's a lot of confidence in the people that're gonna guard you until you get to a secure place," Uzumaki—or, well, Naruto, snorted.

"My parcel!" Kamizuri remembered.

"Unfortunately, all we could retrieve was the… palanquin," Itachi stated, feeling more ridiculous by the minute. How often did genin teams end up flunking the mission while simultaneously detaining a dangerous shinobi that had a bounty of a few million yen? It all felt bizarre.

"My scrolls," Kamizuri cried. "They were worth hundreds of thousands of yen, you useless little brats!"

"Wait, scrolls? Your mission statement said it was a vase!" Sakura snapped. "An expensive vase, but nothing more than that."

"You mean we could've avoided this fiasco if this asshole had been upfront about what he was transporting—no, smuggling?" Naruto fumed.

"I doubt he was after the scrolls," Kamizuri muttered guiltily, side-eyeing the unconscious blond. "They're nothing special, just old archives."

"Archives worth hundreds of thousands of yen?" Sakura skeptically asked, sitting up and trying to iron her head with her palm. He'd almost forgotten about her concussion.

"Well, no, I mean—" the old man babbled, looking more anxious by the minute.

"Save it for the Hokage," Naruto suggested. "Just don't give us more surprises on the way. And you can help me with the wheelbarrow too, actually."

Kamizuri's protest died when he caught Itachi's blank stare, quietly shuffling over to stand beside Naruto, who looked vaguely triumphant.

"Are you fit for travel?" Itachi asked Sakura, who was chugging down another bottle of water she'd retrieved from her relatively intact utility pouch.

"Dandy," she replied dryly. "It's just an hour from here, I'll be fine. I'm just sad I missed Naruto being cool."

Itachi's lip quirked.

* * *

"Terumī Mei," rasped a husky voice. "Wake up."

Mei gasped as a bucketful of water splashed on her face, the icy cold temperature stinging her skin like barbed wire. She spluttered, choking on her own tongue until a hand slapped her back with brutish force. It didn't hurt, but it helped her breathe easier.

She was freezing, although she could feel the warmth of a fire at her back. Her hands, when she tried to move her hair out of her face, were unceremoniously bound by rough, prickly rope.

"Who—?"

"Zabuza, nice to finally make your acquaintance," grinned the shadowy figure of the man, his features lost before her limp curtains of hair. A hand pushed it behind her ear, and a pair of white, shark-like teeth greeted her.

"The Demon of the Mist," Mei murmured, trying not to shiver at his contemplative gaze. The last thing she'd heard about him was that he'd gone missing after the coup d'etat, which had failed spectacularly. Not that she was sad about it, since the bastard had killed her precious person, so she'd be elated if Yagura got murdered in his sleep.

"What do you want from me, demon?"

Zabuza clicked his tongue, and for a moment, she feared he'd cut himself on his razor-sharp teeth.

"Why would I kidnap one of Kiri's finest, Mei-san? Why else?"

She'd expected it. Honestly, she'd known. The jōnin she'd been close to had started to mysteriously vanish or 'die in battle'. One of them had whispered to her of an uprising, but she'd dismissed any hope of change. What were a dozen jōnin to do against a jinchūriki like Yagura?

But now…

"Who else?" she whispered, raspy and parched.

"Hoshigaki and Hōzuki," Zabuza murmured, a sneer on his admittedly handsome face. He'd lost the bandages. "Hoshigaki was camping out with Hōzuki and his little brother somewhere in Ame. He looked undecided, a little conflicted even, until I told him about you."

Mei's heart lurched.

"And he agreed?" she asked, disbelieving.

"The Akatsuki sent him an offer, but Hoshigaki's a patriot through and through," Zabuza snickered. "Haku, untie her."

Of course. She wouldn't be leaving anytime soon, not now, not after hearing his name.

"Where are they?"

"Nearby," Zabuza hummed. "You're seriously fine with being kidnapped and tied up?"

"Not when I can get my revenge on Yagura," Mei hissed, rubbing her wrists, which were raw and bloody from the chafing of the rope. The boy, Haku, looked concerned. "For that, I would even work with the likes of you."

Zabuza whistled, low and long.

"Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned," he laughed.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm so sorry this was late, I've been swamped with finals (I'm graduating in May, woo!) and university applications. Your comments were so uplifting and kind and aaaaa YOU GUYS ARE THE BEST READERS I LOVE YOU ALL. I apologise for how spaced out my updates are, I'll definitely get more regular once my exams are dealt with. Tell me what you thought about this chapter! I love hearing you guys guess about the direction this story is taking.**


	6. So It Begins

**Disclaimer: I do not own the _Naruto_ franchise.**

* * *

—

 **VI. So It Begins**

—

* * *

By the time they got back to Konoha, Deidara had begun to stir.

Truth be told, Itachi, in his twelve-year old glory, wasn't too terrified of the missing-nin. He was more concerned with what said man's purpose had been. Attacking a civilian-born kunoichi on her first mission? That made absolutely no sense to him, and he was yearning to interrogate the man as they walked back to Konohan territory.

Naruto, lugging along both their sensei and their unfortunate captive through his shadow clones, bounded ahead of them as the gates began to grow larger on the horizon.

"I'll go give them a warning," he called over his shoulder, managing to shoot a thumbs up while running.

"You better fess up in front of the Hokage," Sakura said firmly, sparing a glance at Kamizuri's exhausted form. The old man was barely keeping up, rivulets of perspiration trickling down the sides of his sun-beaten face. "He won't be very accomodating once he finds out your lies led to one of his best jōnin being incapacitated—especially when the sole Uchiha heir was on the same team."

Kamizuri's bright red face somehow withered even further, and he licked his dry, chapped lips as he furiously thought of an answer.

"T-the scrolls, they weren't mine!" he blabbered, wringing his hands which were still rubbed raw from pulling the wheelbarrow until Naruto's kindness had won out and he'd created a dozen of his clones to discharge the task.

"Explain," Sakura demanded.

Itachi opted to bore holes into the man's skull.

"Look, I'm only telling you brats this because I need you to back me up when we get there, okay?" At their nods, he continued, "I'm just a simple trader, and my clan has always been in the business of transporting goods and services for a nominal fee. Sometimes, when political tensions are running high, our normal carriers aren't good enough to deliver the goods. That's when we issue a mission and get ninjas to do it for us."

"But back then, during my grandfather's time, we didn't have spare ninjas available for something so mundane; we had to ask clans for help, and they usually charged double the normal rate in coins. My clan didn't have that sort of money, so we repaid them in favors—illegal shipment of black market goods or forbidden scrolls, that type of work."

"I see where this is going," Sakura murmured.

"Yes," Kamizuri sighed. "The scroll that he was after was one that originally belonged to the Yondaime."

"What?" Itachi snapped, whipping his head around. "You issued a team from Konoha to transport a scroll stolen _from_ Konoha?"

"I had no other option! I never intended for you to find out," he grumbled, mutinously glowering at a patch of grass. "I was short on time and my sources needed it urgently."

"Too bad it's all ashes now," Sakura groaned, slapping her forehead.

"The Hokage won't let you off lightly," warned Itachi. "You've been dealing in state secrets, endangered a team of genin, and also counterfeited a mission."

"I'll gladly stay locked up if he can't get to me there," Kamizuri spluttered, shooting a wary look at Deidara's slumped over form.

"You could've just come to the Hokage initially and all this could've been avoided!" Sakura snapped.

"You think they'd offer me protection if I said I had a scroll stolen from the national treasury?" Kamizuri scoffed, crossing his arms.

"You'll be thrown in jail, Kamizuri-san," Itachi said. "The outcome would've been less severe if Hatake-sensei hadn't been unconscious and our lives hadn't been needlessly endangered."

Kamizuri snorted, but remained silent for the rest of their walk.

Sakura and Itachi exchanged a contemplative look, and he knew she was thinking of the same thing.

Their Hokage was an intelligent, some might even say cunning, man. If Kamizuri had the Akatsuki after him, it made no sense to lock him up and waste perfectly good bait. Immoralistic as it may be, the man wasn't a civilian of their country, nor was he absolved of his criminal record. Using him to hook the remaining members and potentially uncovering the mysterious benefactor that wanted the scroll wasn't too bad of an idea.

Perhaps Kamizuri wouldn't get his wish after all.

Then again, Itachi doubted the man would particularly enjoy being torn to shreds by Morino Ibiki.

"Uchiha, Haruno," came an abrupt, baritone voice, and Itachi stowed the kunai away when he saw the familiar animal mask. "We received your message, and will be taking over the transportation of both captives henceforth."

Deidara's limp form was transferred over to a panther-masked ANBU, while Kamizuri had to be shuffled in-between two other ANBU operatives. His face paled as he caught sight of the gleaming tantō on their backs.

"You are to report to the Hokage immediately, after which suitable medical assistance will be provided."

With a nod, the captain and his squad vanished, no signature puff of smoke visible anywhere.

"The smoke always seemed counterproductive to me anyway," Sakura commented after a bit, blinking slowly. "What a day."

Itachi wholeheartedly agreed.

The Sandaime greeted their haggard faces with a somewhat sympathetic click of his tongue, fingers interlaced on his suspiciously clean desk. His eyes were bright compared to his aging visage.

"I daresay you've had an exciting mission for your first C-rank," he said, a rumble of laughter forming in his chest.

"Hokage-sama, is Kakashi-sensei okay?" Sakura asked, gnawing on her lip.

"The medics have told me it's merely a case of chakra exhaustion, nothing to worry about," the Sandaime waved her concern off. "Now, Itachi-kun, Sakura-chan. Our... _client,_ for lack of a better word, has been moved to the T&I. I suppose he's told you some variant of his story, yes?"

"Indeed, Hokage-sama," Itachi murmured.

"Would you care to retell his thrilling tale?"

"He said the scroll belonged to the Yondaime," Sakura began unsurely. "And the Akatsuki was after it."

The Sandaime hummed.

"I don't know how he'd manage to escape the Akatsuki if he had something so valuable with him, though," she frowned.

"That's a question for another day, Sakura-chan. Did he say anything else?"

"Not really, just things we already know."

The Sandaime nodded, and then turned to look at Itachi.

"I've already talked with Naruto-kun, who rather admiringly informed me that you took charge when Kakashi had begun to falter against the captive. Is this true?"

Sakura gaped incredulously at him, and Itachi suddenly remembered she'd been unaware of what had happened on the battlefield.

"I merely came up with a plan, Hokage-sama," Itachi smoothly refuted. "Hatake-sensei was the one who executed it."

"Itachi-kun, I had refused your father's request to draft you into the preliminary ANBU training back when you had been merely eight years old. I had thought you were much too young for such a burden."

He felt Sakura's eyes drill holes into his head, and smothered a chuckle.

"I realize you deserved a normal childhood—well, as normal as yours could have been, I'm afraid—but now... I am offering you a chance."

Itachi's throat felt dry.

True, he remembered his mother and father arguing through the night. It was always about him or his brother—how Fugaku had ruined the life of one Uchiha son by turning him into a killing machine, and how Mikoto wouldn't let him do the same to his younger son, no matter how prodigal he was. Fugaku had still trained him, nevertheless, and had never given up on the idea of making both his sons a member of ANBU before the tender age of ten. He had still been nursing that dream when he'd died, bleeding out on their meticulously polished wooden flooring, Sasuke's ANBU-issued tantō cleanly jutting out through his ribcage.

Itachi never wanted to be ANBU. He hated that damn tantō.

"With all due respect, Hokage-sama," he began, carefully choosing his words, "I would like to stay a genin. My loyalty is to my team, and Uzumaki-kun is merely exaggerating my role on the capture of Deidara no Iwa."

"I won't force you, Itachi-kun," the Sandaime sighed—was it relief on his face? "Well, you're all done here. Off to the hospital you go."

With a deep bow, the two remaining members of Team Seven made their way outside, the glaring sunshine piercing their tired, bloodshot eyes.

"That was... surprising," Sakura stammered, running a bruised hand through her tangled hair. "I never knew you were that above us."

Itachi clicked his tongue.

"We are all equal on this team, Sakura-san," he solemnly told her. "Skill means nothing without intent, and Naruto-san and I were driven by the need to protect—hence, we were successful."

A smile blossomed on her worn face.

"Call me Sakura," she said instead.

"Itachi," he inclined his head. "I suppose this served as a team bonding experience."

"Hell yes, it did," came a loud voice, and Naruto's arm was around his neck, a gesture displaying familiarity. "At least no one's dead."

"We could've been charred to bits," Sakura reminded him. "I still have no idea how we got out of that alive. I guess it's thanks to Mr. Could've-Been-ANBU here." She smirked teasingly.

"Um, what?" Naruto gaped. "I mean, no wonder, but _what?"_

Itachi gracefully snorted, pushing him off and nodding towards the cobblestone path.

"Hospital?"

* * *

Rusty pipes lined the damp, dark basement. Water creaked through the crevices, droplets making soft sounds as they formulated small, murky puddles in the brick flooring. The smell of moss and fear permeated the thick air, and for a moment, everything seemed lifeless.

A broad-shouldered figure sat on the countertop, a makeshift kitchen behind him with a kettle ready to boil on the dull metal stove.

"Yahiko, we don't have time," urgently whispered a blue-haired woman, her hands bloodless in their vice-like grip on one of the chairs she was propping herself up with. "We need to hurry."

"Patience, Konan," came the strong voice, and the man—Yahiko—shot her a warm smile. "Don't worry so much, you'll end up like him."

He jutted his chin at the redhead sitting at the rickety dining table, his posture dignified and a stark contrast to Yahiko's slouching.

"All boring and serious," Yahiko chortled, even as the redhead shot him a half-hearted glare.

"You'll regret that when we get buried alive in this basement after the Akatsuki finds us," he grumbled, shaking his head and returning to the stack of maps scattered on the table.

"We didn't even need that scroll, Konan," Yahiko assured her, noticing the growing frown on her face. "It was just a backup plan. I've got everything under control."

Konan looked unsure.

"Trust me," Yahiko said, exuding confidence. He almost lit up the colourless basement with his presence. "It'll be fine. Just trust me."

* * *

"I wonder what's under the mask," Naruto hummed, suspiciously close to the unconscious jōnin. He squinted, wiggling his fingers. Undoubtedly, Naruto was using every fibre of self-restraint to not tear off the mask.

Sakura's glowering eyes tracking his every movement probably acted as an excellent deterrent.

"A face?" Itachi offered, nonplussed. He flipped through another magazine before ultimately declaring it a waste of effort and neatly throwing it back over the stack on the coffee table. "I wonder what audience they're aiming for."

"People like sensei," Sakura snorted. "It's great mindless reading."

"You're lucky he's sleeping," Naruto sniggered, still leaning over Kakashi's prone form.

The man looked perfectly peaceful, his upper body clad in a sleeveless turtleneck, baring the ANBU brand on his bicep. Naruto had initially proceeded to drool over the tattoo until Itachi's distinct look of judgement had finally processed within his brain.

Afterwards, he'd resorted to drawing up ideas for what could be under the mask. It was an admirable effort to pass the time while Sakura sat through the half-an-hour process of receiving intravenous glucose, but Itachi's ears were beginning to ring.

"Naruto," Sakura called, noticing the long-suffering look on Itachi's pale face. "Sit down before you get us thrown out."

Surprisingly pliant to Sakura's orders—or maybe she just terrified him—Naruto plopped down beside Itachi with a groan.

"I'm so bored, when do you think sensei's gonna wake up?" he grumbled.

"Since we're dealing with extreme chakra exhaustion, it might take him one more day to sufficiently recover," Itachi guessed. "Until then, we must train on our own."

"I... forgot about that," Naruto said, lost. "Since sensei's kinda useless right now, you're gonna be leading us, right?"

"We don't have any other options," Sakura commented. "I don't see the problem."

"Yeah, I mean, you're super strong!" Naruto cheered. "You got that blond guy like _boom, pow, pow!"_

Itachi coughed delicately.

"Again, I must remind you that it was sensei who finished him off in the end," he tried. "And I do know of a few exercises that my father used to run me through. We could perhaps do those?"

Naruto furiously nodded, his blue eyes practically starry.

"And then you can show me how you did that stuff back there and I'll be strong like you and we'll be unbeatable, believe it! BEST TEAM EVER!" he hollered.

A grumpy-looking nurse slammed the door open and angrily ordered them out.

Sakura slapped her forehead.

"I guess it's just you and me, buddy," Naruto solemnly told him as they stood outside the hospital.

"I have no words for you," Itachi deadpanned.

"Hey, is that you, Naruto?"

They both turned around, scarily in sync, to find a gobsmacked Inuzuka Kiba.

"Yo, I heard you guys almost died?" he squawked, eyes bulging. "The fuck was that about?"

"Jeez, news sure travels fast," Naruto muttered. "As you can see, we're perfectly alive and healthy."

"That's cool, I mean." Kiba nodded furiously. "It'd be a shame if you died on your first C-rank, 'specially since the Chūnin Exams are coming up soon."

"Uh, the what?" Naruto squinted, scratching his head. "Didn't we just finish another exam just now?"

"The Chūnin Exams, you dumbass. Unless you wanna stay a genin forever—"

"Hey, who're you calling a dumbass—"

"That's enough, I think," Itachi smoothly interjected, grabbing Naruto by the collar and dragging him off. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Inuzuka-san."

"What pleasure?! The only pleasure I'll get from him is by shoving my foot up his ass!" Naruto roared, struggling as Inuzuka cackled loudly.

"Do not devolve to his level," Itachi firmly said, resisting the urge to drop him on his head and be on his way. How he craved the warmth and comfort of his bed.

"Kinda difficult to when he's insulting me every time he sees me!" Naruto protested.

"Ignore the dog and his barking shall cease," he replied patiently.

"You're a treasure trove of philosophy, ain't 'cha?" Naruto rolled his eyes. "Neat."

"One of us has to have a handle on their emotions," Itachi responded. "It does you no good to mindlessly rise up to any and all bait thrown your way. Choose your battles wisely, Naruto."

"I hate when you make sense," he pouted childishly.

Itachi hid a smile.

"I think this is where we part ways," he said, loosening his grip on the other's jacket. He wrinkled his nose just then. "I recommend you throw that out—those stains look suspicious."

Naruto made a face.

"This is the only jacket I have!"

"I'll buy you another one, please don't wear that again if you'll be coming into close contact with humans." Itachi shuddered. "Just... burn it, preferably."

"Wait, really? MAN, ITACHI, YOU'RE THE BE—"

Itachi dodged the hug, the blond almost greeting the ground with his face as he caught himself.

"You're not a fan of hugs, are you?" he pouted.

"Not particularly," Itachi agreed. "Good evening, Naruto."

"See ya, Itachi," Naruto chuckled, shaking his head. "You're not actually that bad, you know."

Itachi smiled.

* * *

 **A/N:** **I** **FINALLY GOT THIS DONE HOLY SHIT**

 **I suppose you guys had to wait for a long while, so hopefully this chapter tides you over til I get the next, more plot-inclusive, actiony one written. even our prodigal ninjas need a break from all the thrill! you get nice Naruto and Itachi bonding here, plus some foreshadowing—YES, YAHIKO IS ALIVE. whaddaya think? (; and I hope this clears up the Itachi-Is-OP fears you guys had; I'm keeping him at canon level because Itachi was a natural-born genius—iirc, he trained alone in the flashbacks we got of him. the only reason why Sasuke struggled in canon to keep up was because Fugaku always sidelined him, which I'm fixing in this fic. so, no, Itachi isn't OP, he's canonically accurate, at least in skill-level. my boy's a PRODIGY, mhmm.**

 **tell me what you thought of this chapter! comments are an author's lifeblood, and they inspire us to write faster (; love you guys!**


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